


I Left My Heart In Navarro Part 3: Heartbreak Hotel

by StellaDraco



Series: I Left My Heart In Navarro [3]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Awkward Boners, Betrayal, Caesar's Legion, Captivity, Enemies, Escape, Love Triangles, M/M, Mind Games, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Semi-Public Sex, Slavery, Unrequited Love, nightkin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 05:16:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2569508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellaDraco/pseuds/StellaDraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nightkin, the Legion, slavery, and more, what's not to love about the Mojave?  ^w^'  Nero messes with Arcade even more and Vulpes finally shows up in person, but attractions are formed, and nothing ever goes quite as planned.  <br/>I suggest reading or skimming the first two parts, or this might be confusing.  Also, updates may be very sporadic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Left My Heart In Navarro Part 3: Heartbreak Hotel

Nero and Arcade walked north in silence.  Arcade was too distressed by his own thoughts of what had just happened to even consider conversation right now and Nero judged that a somber silence was the best way to gain Arcade’s trust and loyalty.  They would have continued in such silence indefinitely, if Arcade’s current preoccupation with his thoughts had not rendered him oblivious to the danger that he nearly walked into.  Luckily, Nero was paying attention.  Nero swung an arm up to stop Arcade.  

He had intended to hit Arcade in the chest, but their height difference meant that he struck Arcade just below the ribs, knocking the wind out of him and snapping the doctor out of his daze.  Arcade opened his mouth to ask Nero what the hell he had done that for, but stopped seeing the silent terror in the man’s dark eyes.  He followed his gaze.  

No less than six deathclaws shuffled about in the road ahead.  They hadn’t noticed the two men, more focused on eating the five super mutants they had just killed.  Arcade gripped Nero’s shoulder gently and very cautiously backed up.  There was a road to their right and he started leading Nero up it, hoping that whatever was up here was better than deathclaws.  Nero followed him carefully, well aware that his machete was no match for deathclaws.  He didn’t dare draw his gun.  He refused to drop his ruse of vulnerability; the doctor seemed likely to stay with him if he seemed unable to survive on his own.  He needed some kind of companion if he wanted to look harmless to the NCR and any other factions he might run into.  It was always best, Nero knew, to be underestimated.  

He rushed along behind Arcade, holding his machete at the ready.  Once Nero was following him on his own, Arcade let go of him and drew his plasma defender, glad for the distraction from his thoughts.  They followed a winding pre-war road up the mountain, hoping to reach a point where they could bypass the deathclaws and head...  Where were they headed?  Arcade realized only now that Nero had just started walking North and never mentioned his destination.  Arcade knew he should probably return to Freeside to help rebuild, but Nero seemed so helpless.  He felt reluctant to leave the charismatic little man to wander the wasteland on his own.  Nero wouldn’t last a day on his own, Arcade thought worriedly.  

Something invisible slammed into Arcade’s side, breaking a few ribs and sending him flying.  He landed heavily in the dirt, just barely stopping before he rolled down a rocky cliff.  Nero spun towards the source of the strike, machete raised, but a second blow knocked him to the ground and flung his machete out of reach.  Wincing, Arcade tried to stand and help.  He found himself grabbed by the back of the neck like a stray puppy and lifted into the air until his toes couldn’t even reach the ground.  A nightkin became visible, the warped tip of his bumper sword inches from Arcade’s throat.  The doctor raised his hands in surrender.  Stuck between deathclaws and at least two nightkin with a plasma defender and a fairly useless, if handsome companion, Arcade knew that they had no chance of fighting their way out of this.  “Please don’t kill us, we’re pathetic.”

Another nightkin picked up Nero, who watched him almost pleadingly, reinforcing Arcade’s statement by his expression as well as the blood trickling down the side of his head.  The nightkin holding Arcade studied his coat before replying.  “Jeffery says that white coat men heal people.  This true?”

“Yes!  Yes, I’m a doctor.  I heal people.”  He resisted the urge to add a request to be set down, preferably on his feet.  At this point he doubted that the nightkin were just going to set them free, but letting them live was at least a start.  They might be able to escape, if held captive.  

Nero had much the same thought.  He hung in the nightkin’s grip very quietly, trying to look helpless as he noted everything he could in the hope of formulating a method of escape.  

The nightkin holding Arcade nodded at Nero.  “But he not have white coat.  He don’t heal, we smash him, keep you.”

“No!” the nightkin eyed Arcade dangerously at the volume of the shout and the doctor continued more meekly, “No, he’s...um...my assistant...?”  No, no, no, he was an awful liar, this wasn’t going to work.  Nero didn’t deserve to die like this, this was all his fault...

“Yes,” Nero cut in, drawing the nightkin’s ferocious attention.  “I’m his assistant; I know science things.  I can work with computers, and plants, and weapons, and stuff.  You don’t want to kill me, I’m more use to you alive, and I can help him make medicine.”  Arcade had no idea if he was bluffing or not, but the man must have some useful skills if he was still alive out here in the wasteland, so Arcade believed him.  

It seemed that the nightkin did as well.  “You stay in the building with Raul.  You heal us and do science stuff for us.  We feed you scraps.”  It was not a suggestion.  He and the other nightkin hauled them up the mountain to a small building near the radio station.  Arcade saw other supermutants as well, at least twenty of them in total, but probably more with all the nightkin.  Getting out would probably be difficult.  

The nightkin flung Arcade and Nero into the back room, throwing them on top of each other and nearly hitting a very startled ghoul in the process.  

“Oh, sure, I don’t mind roommates.  There’s _plenty_ of space in this tiny little cell.”  The ghoul sighed as the nightkin ignored him and locked them all in.  

Arcade rolled off of Nero painfully and sat up, gently running a hand over his injured side.  Yup, three broken ribs.  He would have to bind those...somehow. The nightkin had taken their stuff and weapons, so he didn’t have and stims or any medical supplies at all, for that matter.  

Nero groaned and rolled onto his back.  His black hair was matted with blood and the left side of his face was a mess of bruises, scrapes, and forming scabs.  Arcade judged that he probably had a concussion, but with no clear way to treat Nero, he looked up at the ghoul.  Aside from a mustache, there wasn’t much that Arcade could note about the man.  

Raul crouched to get a better look at Nero.  “Man, they really messed you two up, I thought I made it more clear how many of them there were, but I guess they didn’t kill you.”  So all his calls for help on the radio had brought him a tiny fresa [pretty-boy] and a giant, sissy doctor.  Clearly, if there was a god, god hated him.  

It seemed like the ghoul had expected someone, although it clearly wasn’t them.  “Um, sorry, who are you?”

“Oh, sorry, I just thought that if you came up into this nightkin infested area, you must have heard my calls for help on the radio, but okay.  You can call me Raul.”

“Arcade Gannon,” the doctor introduced himself, shaking Raul’s hand, “This is Nero.  You wouldn’t happen to have bandages stashed somewhere in this workshop, would you?”

“No.  I’ve got some old shirts if you’re feeling creative, doc.”  


End file.
